


Ruusaan

by HDLynn



Series: Yellow Chaser Universe [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, One Shot, Original Character Death(s), Some Fluff, combat related violence, cursing, protective Paz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: When the covert comes under attack Paz finds himself confronted with hard choices and fighting to find his riduur.
Relationships: Paz Vizla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/Reader
Series: Yellow Chaser Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944367
Kudos: 67





	Ruusaan

He should have known something was wrong. Something that day had been just off.

But nothing had seemed out of the ordinary to those taking sentry shifts. Nothing had come up as odd on the scanners that Treece, the most experienced tech in the covert, was always listening to for odd chatter. So Paz had told himself that it surely was just that…nothing.

Nothing but the pricking feeling under his skin when they were stuck in one hiding hole for too long. He might be a patient man, but he was also a Vizla and thus preferred to be a man of action. The fight above ground when his vod, Din, had gotten himself into a scrape had just added fuel to his belly to…do something. Thankfully for him, the Armorer had decided that it would be best for the covert to relocate since they had revealed a good portion of their numbers.

So, everyone had started in their familiar roles of packing up, which they had done countless times and Paz doubted the would be the last. It was nearing time for dinner, the excited chatter of the foundlings starting up as the smells of food wafted out into the tunnels closest to the kitchen setup.

Paz had been talking with Rani, one of the eldest of the tribe at around sixty years, when the defining sound of a demolition ordinance echoed through the covert.

But it wasn’t an echo, Paz quickly realized as the ground shook from a sequence of explosions. He watched in slow motion as a black object rolled and bounced down from one of the grates above them.

He couldn’t even swear, much less move, before it exploded behind Rani, throwing them both to the ground.

Dust and debris filled the air as both of them were thrown, his ears ringing from the blast.

Paz was up and pulling Rani up, as well, before the ringing had started to subside. But Rani had pushed him away with a strength that surprised Paz enough to make the bigger Mando stumble back a step.

“Get the ade, Visla. I’ll hold them off,” Rani said, tipping his helm as he took an explosives round out of a pouch with an uncharacteristically jerky movement.

The motion caused Paz to look closer, finally noticing the dark bloom of blood and quivering flesh now exposed on Rani’s side. Paz had seen enough battle and war to know that was a mortal wound if it wasn’t taken care of immediately, and the attack had just started.

They could hear the sound of what seemed to be a battalion of troopers coming towards them and Rani pushed at him again.

“Get out of here, you big blue di-kut. Ret'urcye mhi,” the Mandalorian said with no small amount of tired affection.

“Ret'urcye mhi,” Paz said, the words coming automatically even as Rani started walking away from him, going towards the troopers.

This was the way, and he knew Rani was going to do exactly what he would do in the same situation. Even if he found himself with his guts hanging out, Paz wouldn’t go down without a fight and his vod was the same.

A minutes later there was another deafening boom and Paz had to swallow bitter bile down.

Ducking into a small alcove, one that was barely large enough to fully hide his large frame in shadow, Paz took in a deep breath to center himself.

Slow inhale. Slow exhale. Repeat.

The exercise cleared his mind, honed his plan.

The covert had been through this before, there was the main plan in case of an attack. But there were also the backup plans. Currently, he was operating off of Plan H. He would use the diversion and get to the nearest foxhole and transfer the foundlings to an escape route.

His gloved hand turned, the heat sensor in a whisper of leather. It would be easier to see using that with all the dust currently choking the space. The light down in the tunnels was dim on normal days, but, under these scenarios, it was like trying to look through a heavy fog. But he did not have long to think.

There was the shuffle of two? No — three — sets of feet, the sound of creaking plastoid armor giving away their identity.

Calculating the space from his recollection of the tunnel, Paz decided that it would be best to try and take these troopers out as quietly as possible. The close fighting quarters would make using the blasters a slight disadvantage since the visibility was still bad. That, and extra blaster shots, would just bring more imps.

Paz slid the vibroblade from its hidden sheath in his vambrace. The dagger had two sharp edges, unlike a regular knife with just one. The twelve-inch blade was plain on the one side while the other was serrated, versatile for cutting through flesh and more tough things like bone even when the knife wasn’t activated.

The imps were slow and dull though not even noticing the alcove he was in. Poorly trained idiots. The Mandalorian almost would have pitied them if the ember of hate for the Empire wasn’t still hot in his stomach. 

He waited just long enough for the last trooper to step into view, their blaster out and at the ready.

Bursting forward like a demon from the shadows, Paz’s left hand came down on the trooper’s hand holding the blaster. The force of the blow immediately caused it to be knocked from their grasp and clatter to the ground. The white-clad stormtrooper didn’t even get a chance to gasp before Paz had jammed his vibroblade into their spine, right under where their helmet ended. The humming blade cut true, with only a slight crunch of bone.

Ripping the knife out, he was already moving to his next target, glowing red and warm in his HUD. The first body hadn’t even hit the ground when he was on trooper number two.

They had started to turn at the clatter of the fallen blaster but not fast enough. His large hand came around to grip the front of their helmet and force their head at an upwards angle before quickly drawing the blade deep across their throat.

The trooper gurgled and sputtered before going silent as Paz thrust them aside. Their third companion, the one at the front, had pivoted and shot at the huge target before them, Paz’s arm a blur of movement.

The tunnel was lit up with a flash of bright red and a golden cascade of sparks came off Paz’s shoulder plate from where the trooper had managed to hit him. The blast barely moved him though, Paz’s heavy-set frame like an unyielding rock. They didn’t get a chance to fire again, though, the trooper looking down at the vibroblade that had punched through the plastiod chest plate. The blade gave off a soft hum and the trooper stumbled with a wet gasp and then fell to one knee.

Taking four massive steps forward, the trooper’s head lolled back to look up at him. No emotion on the helmet, Paz didn’t exception there to be, just the almost drunken slump before they lurched forward landing face-first on the ground. 

“Shabuir,” Paz spat out to no one in particular since everyone else in this hallway was now dead. Paz could see in his HUD the warm pool of liquid starting to gather under the body before him.

Easily rolling the body over with a heavy boot, he bent down to retrieve his blade from where he had thrown it true. The red of the blood covering the white armor was already growing muddied from the dust that was starting to settle. He needed to move.

Going deeper into the tunnels it grew darker as the sun quickly started to set in earnest.

He was on edge, unable to slide the blade back into its place. Perhaps it was the random pops of distant fire of blasters echoing through the tunnels, sounding so close and so far at the same time, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t know where his girl, his ruusaan was, but he knew he was being more rushed and reckless than he might normally have been.

What should have taken him twenty minutes to reach, Paz cut down the travel time to about fourteen minutes instead.

As he came to the first foxhole, he saw a dark humanoid shape laying on the ground and his heart jumped into his throat. Hurrying forward, he was relived yet disturbed to find the body wasn’t that of one of the tribe but a black-clad imp.

Paz cursed. Kriffing Death Troopers. Elite, stealthy, and harder to take down than the normal storm troopers. He had seen their kind before and none of those times had been good days.

Kneeling down, Paz noted the wound under the imp’s armpit where their armor had a gap as well as the killing wound across the neck like he had done. He couldn’t help but smile, he was quite sure he knew who had taken this imp out.

Still down to the ground, Paz flicked over the sensor to better pick up footprints.

The HUD system clearly showed the scuffle that had ended with the dead trooper on the ground. He could also make out three sets of footprints that originated from the hiding spot and went further into the tunnels towards where he knew eventually led towards one of the locations a ship had been hidden.

Following the footprints, the heat of nearby lava warmed the area to the point his heat sensors were quickly becoming useless, but not before he saw where they seemed to disappear into part of the wall.

Pressing the hidden latch of a grate, he moved the heavy piece of metal with ease and slipped into the neighboring section of tunnels.

He didn’t get far in the darkness before he heard the soft singing of fabric and steel behind him. The air vibrated in a familiar way under his axillary vein, the thrumming tense and deadly serious.

“Keep moving and I slice you open, imp,” a voice ground out from a dark corner.

“Udesii, udesiir,” Paz uttered quietly, hands up and empty in supplication. 

His heart twisted in his chest at the small cry that came from the person holding the vibroknife under his armpit, relief flooding his veins.

The blade at his unarmored spot disappeared and he was whipping around faster than his large size would have most believe could move. His gloved hands came to hold on tight to his riduur’s upper arms, trying to scan her for injuries.

Turning on the light build into his helmet, he saw her jerk back slightly at the sudden brightness. But what concerned him was the wet-looking dark patch at the base of his wife’s light gray cowl. 

“Gar cuyir kadala, you’re hurt.”

“Got m’ bell rung. I’s not bad, jus’ a busted lip an’ cut on my forehead, I think,” she slurred slightly as she motioned over her shoulder. “I have three ade with me, we’re tryin’ to get to the rendezvous location.” 

“And probably a concussion, ner kar’ta, if you didn’t recognize your own riduur,” Paz chided lightly, even as he saw the three faces peeking around a corner deeper down the tunnel passage. He waved them closer. 

He looked over the little ones and saw is was Neveta, Irie, and Getal. All of them were too young to have sworn the creed yet.

Neveta was around five or six with a mop of wildly curling black, she was always one who liked to clamber over Paz like she was a little mountain goat. But right now her little face was dower and set in a fierce grimace for one her age, a small hand clutching a small yet impressively sharp looking knife. Paz noted that her grip, while good, needed a little work but that could come later.

Getal, at eleven, was tall for their age, lanky, and holding a wide-eyed Irie, who was around three. Paz was pleased to see Getal’s steady hold on the youngest of them.

“We’re going to the ship,” Neveta said with blunt seriousness in her eyes that would have fit Paz’s face better than the wisp of a girl with a missing front tooth.

“Yes, we are,” Paz said, before firmly squeezing his “We’re going now.”

The way to the ship was rather straightforward after some more winding through the tunnels. Paz had taken Neveta and Irie and easily nestled the two smallest children into the crook of his left arm. The two girls were light as air compared to the weight of his mini battling gun currently holstered at his back.

They moved quickly and in tense silence when the sounds of blaster fire had popped back up as they had been moving. The manufactured tunnels of the city gave way to the natural labyrinthian network of now empty lava tubes. They walked on for about four miles, following the correct markings on the walls that had been left there to help traverse the maze.

The Yellow Chaser had been originally a gunship, but had been tinkered with and mashed together to the parts of so many other ships she wasn’t particularly recognizable for what she once was. That, and she didn’t have a speck of yellow paint on her anymore, if she ever did.

Depositing the exhausted children with his riduur, Paz was in the cockpit in a matter of moments.

Part of him wanted to stay longer, see if any other survivors made their way down the same tunnels they had just traversed. But that wasn’t part of the agreed-upon plans.

It had been decided that if things went to shit like they apparently had any adult was expected to keep any ade in their care safe.

He barely had to think as he flipped on the switches and levers that caused the ship’s engines to roar to life. He guided the ship out of solidified lava tunnel and out an ancient vent in the cavern ceiling that opened up to the sky above.

Paz half expected to be fired upon as he brought it out of the hiding space, yet the air space was empty around them. The city of Nevarro was some several miles south of their current position, the bright lights twinkling in the now dark night as he piloted the ship up and out of the planet’s atmosphere.

“Prepare for jump,” he spoke into the internal comm system as he punched. in the coordinates to a random jump location. 

Paz pressed his lips into a tight line as he waited for the computer to finish running the numbers. It took too long and yet was over too soon when the screen blinked green when the hyperdrive was ready. He pressed the lever away from him ad felt the old familiar pull in his chest and stomach as the ship entered hyperspace. The stars blurred and stretched before him as they entered a liminal space, right on the cusp between two impossibly distant locations, yet nowhere at the same time. 

“I have the kid’s bunked down and sleeping.”

Paz turned around to look at his wife, both of them just staring at each other. A shared weight of responsibility for the three ade now indefinitely in their care settled over them like a mantle. 

There had been plenty of times the covert had split up as needed and they had always drifted and clicked back into place, but each time Paz couldn’t help but wonder as he was wondering now if they would be able to do the same again. Either way, those three foundlings were theirs now and they needed to make sure they also took care of themselves to keep the children safe.

“Have you cleaned yourself up?” Paz asked bluntly.

She started to shake her head no, but tensed up when she tried to move her head. Paz sighed.

“Sit,” he ordered, getting up to pull out the copilot’s seat from where it had been folded into the ship’s wall to save space.

She sat down with a hiss that had him gave her a sharp look as he got out a medkit from the overhead storage compartment. Pulling his helmet off with one hand, he placed that in the middle of the pilot’s seat and turned to his patient. 

“Let me,” Paz said, softer this time as he carefully slipped his wife’s helm up and off. His thumbs nestled in the sculpted cheeks of the cool metal, the paint there matching the brighter blue on his own. He did his best to not jostle her more than necessary. 

Revealing her face, he instantly started to categorize injuries and what supplies in the kit he was going to be using.

There was a nasty cut that ran in a curve on her brow bone. It was that wound that was still sluggishly weeping the blood that had soaked into her cowl and also turned the white of her right eye scarlet. There was also the vivid start of a black eye and additional bruising on the same side of her face, and the busted lip she had mentioned.

Paz frowned at the sight of his riduur so hurt. He knew she was tough, but that still didn’t mean he liked seeing her in pain.

“Just ‘got your bell rung’ huh?” Paz tried to tease, but it came out harsher from his residual stress.

She didn’t look offended, just shrugging, “Could’ve been worse, has been worse. I’ve seen you with much worse and bitching about not wanting help getting stitched up,” her mouth ticked up at that last bit.

Paz just grumbled at that needling as he used a sterile wet wipe to start clearing away the fresh and dried blood, “You must be all right if you’re going to sass me, doll.”

“Me? I’d never,” she said with a lopsided smirk before hissing in pain when the disinfecting alcohol stung too badly before Paz was closing the wound up with butterfly stitches. The wound wasn’t so deep that it needed actual sutures, and the bleeding had stopped so the narrow adhesive bandages would do just fine.

“K’uur,” Paz ordered gently so he could clean the split lip and applied some bacta gel there. They didn’t have much bacta onboard in the medkits, but it wouldn’t do to have a mouth wound keep reopening and the strips wouldn’t hold up where they could get moist.

His thumb ghosted over her uninjured bottom lip, pulling a different softer sound from her throat.

“Paz,” his name fell from her mouth in a whimper as one of her hands snuck around to the nape of his neck. He let her pull him down to rest his forehead against the uninjured side of hers, each of them taking a steadying breath at the feel of the other.

She sounded as tired as he was starting to feel, the adrenaline fleeing both of their bodies.

His nimble fingers started on the buckles and latches of the pieces of her beskar'gam and then his own so they were left in their kutes. He made neat piles of his and his riduur’s armor on the floor and set their helmets alongside the piles. He couldn’t help but notice the paint that had been scoured off the side of her helmet, leaving the gleaming beskar underneath to shine through, the Mandalorian steel probably had saved her life if she had been shot at as close a range as Paz was suspecting.

He didn’t even have to speak, she just took his offered hand and settled into his lap as he sat back in the pilot’s chair. They had shared this seat together before, sometimes in more pleasurable circumstances and other times just like this. Just needing to be held and hold onto each other.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” she mumbled into the spot that she had nestled into, her breath hot on his neck.

Paz pressed a firm kiss into her hair, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika.”  
Fingertips pressing circles into the sliver of flesh on her waist exposed by her shirt riding up, Paz let himself relax into the pilot’s chair as he felt her breathing even out and deepen with sleep. He would sleep for a bit soon, but for now, he was just going to let his breathing sync up with hers, his heartbeat with hers, thanking the blessed stars she was warm and living in his arms.

For while death in combat was an honorable death, a warrior’s death, Paz knew he wouldn’t be the same without his Ruusaan. So, he would take these moments and store them up, hoarding each memory like a precious nugget of beskar, for such things were solely his. Just like his riduur was wholly his, and he was earnestly and utterly her’s.

~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Vod - comrade/brother/sister  
> Shabuir - fucker  
> Udesii, udesiir - calm down, take it easy  
> Riduur - spouse  
> Gar cuyir kadala - you are hurt  
> ner kar’ta - my heart  
> Ruusaan - reliable one  
> Ade - children  
> K’uur - hush  
> beskar'gam - armor  
> Kute(s) - bodysuit worn under armor  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika - i love you, sweetheart


End file.
